


forget-me-not

by caeos



Series: high rise [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crush at First Sight, Hopeful Ending, M/M, Pining, Prequel, tagging is hard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-12
Updated: 2019-04-12
Packaged: 2020-01-06 21:49:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18397034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caeos/pseuds/caeos
Summary: Iwaizumi meets Oikawa Tooru for the first time in his last year at Karasuno and is head over heels before he even hears him talk. Fate has other ideas for them.- a prequel to high rise





	forget-me-not

**Author's Note:**

> This is meant to be read as a prequel to high rise but it can be read on its own… kinda?  
> like author's rec? go read high rise first.  
> I didn’t originally know where to place Iwaizumi outside of Seijoh but hey i haven't written anything for the crow crew yet so here they are!  
> Not sure where this would fit into vague canon given that I said that Iwaizumi was 16 (first plot hole, baby) when he first saw Oikawa but Hinata’s at Karasuno and Kyoutani is playing for Seijoh… we’re outside of the timestream lads, stay safe.

Staring was, objectively, rude.  
Which is precisely the reason Iwaizumi decided to call what he was doing now ‘observing’.  
Besides, everyone else’s eyes were trained on this guy, why shouldn’t his be too?  
  
‘This guy’ was the most beautiful man Iwaizumi had never seen, tall and toned and spelled trouble for the wing spiker.  
Mainly because this guy looked so out of his league he may as well be in a whole other sport.  
  
Starting from the ground up, Iwaizumi decided this guy’s legs were illegal, impossibly long, irritatingly so.  
In fact going around looking like _that_ should be considered indecent exposure because Iwaizumi certainly felt indecent looking at him.  
He moved melodically, in slow-motion almost, Iwaizumi couldn't tear his eyes away.  
  
Iwaizumi had felt infatuation before, he spent most of his days around attractive guys in short-shorts, there was no wonder he sometimes got his wires crossed - sometimes he'd think he was in love only to realise, _no, nope_ , that guy just has a good cross and he was jealous.  
All this to say Iwaizumi sometimes had big feelings he couldn't quite classify, right now all he wanted was to map the length of those irritatingly long legs with his fingertips and he wasn't quite sure if that qualified as a quantifiable 'mood'.  
  
His hands were big as well, Iwaizumi looked as his own suspiciously to compare them… not that it was a competition. Long and slender fingers, leading onto those toned, freckled arms.  
  
And, objectively, his face was… good. Exceedingly pretty and glistening under a thin layer of sweat as he licked over his pink lips, panting in breaths.  
So his tongue was nice too, you know, objectively speaking.  
  
He wanted to know how this guy _tasted_ , he wanted to know his star sign, favourite food, ideal date - it was _a lot_ all at once and Iwaizumi craved all of it.  
  
‘What ya staring at?’ Hinata asked, shuffling closer to him on the bench, although the fact he was sitting at all with Kageyama on the court was a marvel.  
  
‘Nothing you need to concern yourself with, shrimpy.’ Iwaizumi ruffled his hair lightly, distracting his hands long enough to still the quake in them.  
  
They were getting into the groove of their first match of the season and Iwaizumi was on the bench, not his favourite position to play but one he traded with Asahi now he’d rejoined the volleyball club and there was a surplus of wing spikers.  
  
Karasuno was winning but he’d like to see the other team try to crack the timing of the dynamic duo’s freak quick, he certainly couldn’t… yet.  
  
He was broken from his thoughts as the thrum of the crowd rose to a crescendo, followed by a sound like the crack of thunder. Hinata’s eyes widened as his palm smacked Iwaizumi in the chest and threw him backwards off the bench - narrowly avoiding the stray ball that sailed by.  
It hit the ground behind them, bouncing harmlessly a few times before rolling to a stop.  
  
‘Whoops, sorry!’ A tuneful voice called out, Hinata gave an awkward wave in response as Iwaizumi pried himself from the ground.  
  
‘What the-’ Hinata’s expression stopped him in his tracks.  
  
Iwaizumi followed his line of sight - all the way back to _him_.  
  
He was lining up another serve.  
The ball went up, he jumped to meet it and there was that sound again - like the snap of a whip - echoing about the gymnasium.  
  
‘Whoa, look at that serve,’ Hinata said in awe, confused when Iwaizumi didn’t respond.  
  
_Whoa_ had been right. Iwaizumi’s jaw was on the floor, his heart was in his mouth and his brain was most definitely in his pants.  
Apparently he could jot his type down as both pretty and powerful.  
He needed this guy's number, his fingers slotted between his own, to see him smile at something, anything Iwaizumi could do for him - he _needed_ to receive that serve.  
  
‘Nice serve, Oikawa!’ The praise from his teammates was followed by cheers from the crowd.  
  
‘Push it, Tooru!’  
  
Oikawa Tooru. And with a name to his beautiful, beautiful face - Iwaizumi was gone.

***

Iwaizumi loved his team, he really did. But being in Karasuno felt like a garden trying to grow through cobbled concrete slabs - they were haphazard, reckless.  
  
For a moment his eyes were taken off their game and pulled to Seijoh’s.  
  
They weren’t remarkable in Karasuno’s sense, none of them shone like Hinata, but they were a well oiled machine, an orchestra in tune with Oikawa.  
  
Watching Oikawa play was something else.  
There was skill there, like Kageyama, but it was more than that, the connections with his team and their confidence in him, a level of trust between teammates that was yet to be developed here.  
That’s what made Oikawa shine.  
  
That and his legs. And hands. And face.  
  
And Iwaizumi was fully prepared to join his apparent hoard of fans in the stands if it meant he would catch Oikawa’s eye, even for a second.  
There was a particularly exuberant gaggle of girls up front but Iwaizumi thought he could take them.  
  
He sighed and rested his chin on his palm.  
  
‘Are you even paying attention?’ Ukai snapped, Iwaizumi blinked and shook his focus back onto the match at hand.  
  
‘Erm... yes?’  
  
‘Worried about Seijoh?’ Ukai pondered, eyes wandering beyond their own game also. ‘That setter could cause some problems.’  
  
_He already has._  
  
‘Something like that,’ Iwaizumi sighed again.  
  
His legs were buzzing, he wanted to play, he wanted to be on the court - with Oikawa.  
Two more matches, that’s all they had to win to bring down the Grand King.

***

With their first match won and spirits high, they cleared up their court, Shimizu had disappeared a few minutes prior to move their banner.  
She was stood in the bleachers now, hair tied back from her face as she undid the fastenings from about the bars.  
  
As she finished she sighed a little, frustrated, looking down at the box they usually carried the banner in forgotten right next to Ukai’s spot on the bench.  
  
‘Kiyoko!’ Iwaizumi called up, gaining her attention instantly. ‘Just drop it down, I’ll get it.’  
  
She looked hesitant for a second - doing the mental arithmetic on just how sweaty Iwaizumi was and how damp the banner would be for the next match - before throwing the fabric down to him.  
  
Although, as he soon discovered, catching free-falling fabric that wasn’t balled up was harder than expected.  
The banner fluttered down over him, shrouding him like a motivational gothic ghost.  
  
‘Aha, nice receive,’ it was the same voice from before, that teasing lilt making Iwaizumi’s knees week.  
Iwaizumi could listen to that voice talk about everything, nothing, whatever kept that symphonic tone on his tongue.  
  
He ripped the fabric from over his head only to be greeted by the back-end of Aoba Johsai’s team.  
A kid with bleached hair met his eyes, raising his hackles when Iwaizumi didn’t turn away.  
  
‘Keep up, Kyouken-chan!’ Oikawa called. ‘Flightless crows are no concern of ours.’  
  
And for the second time Iwaizumi was left deflated, staring at the number on the back of his jersey.

***

Fate was cruel to Iwaizumi, as it decided to have him and his new apparent _crush_ play in neighbouring courts once more.  
  
‘Iwaizumi, smash it!’ Ukai yelled, throwing a ball up above the net.  
  
Iwaizumi enjoyed warm ups, he liked the routine of them, the burn in his muscles as they prepared for the match ahead.  
But most of all he liked showing off to preppy setters from opposing schools; after all, his spike was nothing to scoff at either.  
  
He leapt, reeling his arm back, faintly aware of the click from Yachi’s camera as he hit the ball full pelt.  
  
There was no crack of thunder, he hadn’t quite hit at the right angle and it lacked some control Oikawa’s serve had.  
But _good fucking luck_ to the poor sod who had to receive that.  
  
Iwaizumi hit the floor as his teammates roared in approval but his head naturally turned to garner Seijoh’s reaction.  
They were huddled in a group, completely unmoved by Iwaizumi’s spike.  
  
Iwaizumi exhaled sharply and returned to the back of the line, _just what did he have to do to get this guy’s attention?  
_

***

_Oh my god_. Iwaizumi was so close to the bathroom, he couldn’t give up now, he was going to make it. He had too.  
  
With Iwaizumi’s newfound _thirst_ came downing three bottles of water through the course of the match - just to give his mouth something to do rather than hang limp at the sight of Seijoh’s setter.  
  
Now he was about to unleash the most aggressive piss ever, whether he made it to the bathroom or not, this was no longer in his hands.  
  
For the first time in the day fate smiled down on Iwaizumi as he slammed the stall door shut behind him and let out a sigh of relief.  
  
‘I’m just saying-’ a concerned voice began as the bathroom door swung open. ‘Oikawa, I can _see_ you limping. We can bring Yahaba on as substitute, you dislocating your knee isn’t going to make us win any faster.’  
  
‘Careful, Mattsun, it almost sounded like you cared there.’ Iwaizumi recognised Oikawa’s voice the second he spoke.  
  
Briefly, Iwaizumi was just glad he’d already tucked himself back into his shorts - he did not need his hands anywhere even vaguely adjacent to his dick when Oikawa was talking. He had a bit of a hair-trigger down there.  
  
‘Don’t worry about me, I’m your captain, aren’t I? I know what’s best for you.’  
  
‘You’re not our mother,’ another voice scoffed.  
  
‘No, you're too ugly to be my children,’ Oikawa teased.  
  
As Iwaizumi emerged from his stall, awkwardly, he saw Oikawa leaning over the sink, he was putting on a brave face but Iwaizumi could see the tremor in his arms.  
  
‘Pull yourself together, Oikawa, we need our setter at his best.’ The dark haired man next to Oikawa left with the other assumed third-year in tow.  
  
Oikawa, in fact, did not pull himself together.  
  
He was slouched over the sink, jaw clenched tightly, as Iwaizumi washed his hands and walked over to the dryer - he was still trembling.  
  
‘Hey, are you-’  
  
Before Iwaizumi could finishing talking, Oikawa’s grip on the ceramic slipped - his legs going from beneath him as he hit the ground, out cold.  
  
Iwaizumi let out a loud string of profanity as he knelt down next to him, his brow was on fire but he was still shivering, breaking out in a cold sweat.  
  
_Fifteen minutes_ \- he had fifteen minutes to drop Oikawa off and haul his ass back to the court to start the next match, Iwaizumi thought as he followed the signs to the med bay.  
  
Right now he was just thankful he’d warmed up properly because jogging down the corridors with Oikawa limp in his arms was one _hell_ of an exercise drill.  
  
It took two minutes to get him to the medical bay, three more for Oikawa to be checked over and have the room cleared, leaving him and an unconscious Oikawa alone.  
  
For a minute or so he just stood, then sat, then stood again - unsure if he should even _be there_ when Oikawa woke up.  
  
_Maybe… if he… just_ … he brushed Oikawa’s fingers with his own.  
Ice. That’s all Iwaizumi could compare them to, a corpse had more heat in it than Oikawa did right now.  
  
Without thinking, he wrapped both hands about Oikawa’s, warming them between his own.  
  
Then Oikawa shifted and Iwaizumi nearly screamed.  
He didn’t drop his hand though, which he became acutely aware of as Oikawa’s fingers slid between his own and clung on tight.  
  
A few botched attempts to pry Oikawa off later and Iwaizumi had resigned himself to sitting next to the patient and sighing audibly.  
  
‘Can you sigh any louder?’ Oikawa said. This time Iwaizumi did scream, but like, only a little. ‘I mean, I get swooning around me but this is just-’  
  
As Oikawa’s eyes finally slurred opened his words fell short.  
  
‘Marry me.’  
  
‘I’d rather not,’ Iwaizumi replied, blushing hot as he stood and backed away, very aware of how sweaty his palms were in Oikawa’s vice grip.  
  
His eyes were light brown, Iwaizumi hadn't noticed until now, it made him look younger somehow - softer, more innocent.  
More attainable, not that he was something to be won, but he looked definitively human.  
Iwaizumi had seen him through his ethereal glow on the court and now he was a sweaty, dishevelled mess and his eyes were _brown_.  
And he was breathtakingly beautiful, even still.  
  
For a second - _only a second_ \- Iwaizumi reconsidered entertaining that marriage proposal.   
  
‘Wait no,’ Oikawa’s eyes - which had been rolling in his head like a haunted doll - finally straightened. ‘You’re...Karasuno!’ His outburst and accusing point lost a little weight as his head lolled back against the pillow and he was about ten inches off actually pointing _at_ Iwaizumi.  
  
‘Astute observation, want a medal?’ Iwaizumi huffed, pulled off his feet as Oikawa yanked their joint hands into his chest to cross his arms.  
  
‘Yes.’  
  
‘Could you…’ Iwaizumi shook their conjoined hands meekly. ‘I have to… volleyball.’  
  
Oikawa's thumb stroked over his forefinger, glancing over the hand entwined with his own pale fingers. 'You have nice hands.'  
  
‘Thanks, I need them to,’ Iwaizumi made a vague spiking motion. ‘Volleyball,’ he repeated weakly.  
  
‘You’re a spiker?’ Oikawa hummed, free hand tracing lines up and down Iwaizumi’s forearm absentmindedly.  
  
‘Y-yeah,’ Iwaizumi stammered, noting the goosebumps prickling up his arms.  
  
‘For _Kageyama?_ ’ Oikama growled, his grip becoming a little white-knuckled.  
  
‘For _Karasuno_ , yeah.’ Iwaizumi corrected. ‘So if you could _not_ break my hand, that’d be great.’  
  
Oikawa slackened his grip instantly, seemingly surprised at how tense he'd become.  
  
‘Sorry I- wait, so if we win… and you win,’ Oikawa blinked a few times, eyes settling on Iwaizumi. ‘We’ll get to play each other.’  
  
‘Yes.’  
  
Oikawa brought Iwaizumi’s hand up towards his mouth, slowly, lips ghosting over his knuckles as he pressed a kiss to them.  
  
‘Then promise to put your all into your spikes,’ Oikawa said, breath hot over Iwaizumi’s skin as he spoke. ‘And we’ll see just how good Karasuno has become.’  
  
‘You even gonna remember that promise?’ Iwaizumi laughed lightly as Oikawa’s head fell back against the pillow again.  
  
‘I’ll remember.’  
  
‘Hmm, _sure_.’  
  
‘Promise me,’ Oikawa whined, grip going tight about his hand again.  
  
‘I promise… I hope you feel better soon, Tooru.’  
  
And he was true to his word. His palm was warm when he returned to the court, buzzing where Oikawa had kissed him, and when he hit the ball there were _sparks_.  
There was fire in his veins, burning hot with the knowledge that after this one match he’d finally see how the Grand King plays.

***

_He should be happy_ , Iwaizumi told himself for the hundredth time.  
If he could stop being so unbelievably selfish maybe he could find it in him to be as thrilled as the rest of his team.  
  
They’d beaten Aoba Johsai… minus Oikawa Tooru, who hadn’t been released from the med bay.  
  
They’d beaten a fragmented Seijoh, playing like a piano too tightly tuned - they lacked fluidity and confidence without their captain.  
A worthy opponent but not the one Iwaizumi wanted.  
  
As soon as the match was over he saw the third years sprint off the court, finding the fortitude to run from somewhere deep within.  
  
Iwaizumi was ready to collapse.

***

The ride back to school was a blur, the walk home even more of a haze.  
His team must have sensed he was out of it as they’d sent Tanaka home with him, chaperoning him along the way.  
  
‘You good?’ Iwaizumi hummed an affirmative. ‘Because you don’t look happy.’  
  
‘That’s just my face,’ Iwaizumi replied, though he felt some of the tension between his brow lessen.  
  
‘Nah, that’s a tough guy facade. Believe it or not but I too experience feelings.’ Iwaizumi couldn’t tell if Tanaka was teasing or actually divulging this… secret.  
  
‘You? No way,’ Iwaizumi pretended to gasp.  
  
‘Yes, even me…’ Tanaka trailed off, leaving only the sound of their footsteps on the concrete between them. ‘So who’s the girl?’  
  
Iwaizumi tripped, he would have gone head over heels but he’d already _done that_ today.  
  
‘What?! No one,’ Iwaizumi lied.  
  
‘Mmm, yes, that adorable blush says otherwise,’ Tanaka pinched his cheeks and withdrew his hand before Iwaizumi had the chance to slap it - _curse his reflexes_. ‘Come on, who would I tell?’  
  
‘Nishinoya,’ Iwaizumi replied instantly. ‘And Chikara.’  
  
‘Obviously. But who else?’  
  
‘Suga, Daichi, Asahi- you would literally tell the entire team,’ Iwaizumi realised.  
  
‘So not Kiyoko-san?’ Tanaka asked curiously.  
  
‘I mean you _could_ tell her too, I guess?’  
  
‘Dammit, it’s not her?’ Tanaka huffed, defeated.  
  
‘No! He doesn’t even go to our school-’ Iwaizumi clapped a hand over his mouth a second too late.  
  
‘ _Ooh_ ,’ Tanaka cheered, a shit-eating grin on his face. ‘So, who’s the _guy?_ ’ He sang.  
  
‘I am not talking to you about this,’ Iwaizumi grumbled, quickening his pace.  
  
‘Come on, who is it? Bokuto? Kuroo? Taketora? He is very handsome…’ Tanaka pondered, scratching his head thoughtfully.  
  
‘Tora looks exactly like-’  
  
‘Come on, Iwaizumi, you know I wont judge,’ Tanaka sighed, slouching forward as they walked. ‘I mean unless it was Oikawa or someone!’  
  
He broke into uproarious laughter, making it five paces ahead before noticing Iwaizumi was dead in his tracks - face frozen and the reddest Tanaka had ever seen it.  
  
‘Iwaizumi, _no!_ ’ Tanaka cried, his laughter turning maniacal as he bent double and wheezed. ‘Oh my god, this is hilarious!’  
  
‘I’m leaving,’ Iwaizumi deadpanned, storming ahead but being snagged back as Tanaka grabbed the strap of his bag.  
  
‘No seriously - _Oikawa_?’ He was talking through laughter, tears streaming from his eyes. ‘You a masochist or something?’  
  
Iwaizumi threw him against the wall without much fire, putting a hand aside his head and jabbing two fingers into his sternum.  
  
‘You tell anyone and I’ll bust your kneecaps,’ Iwaizumi growled as Tanaka tried to contort his face into something serious and failed miserably.  
  
‘The only thing you wanna _bust_ is-’ Iwaizumi kicked him in the shins and chased him up the drive to his house, satisfied only when Tanaka dived behind the door and locked it shut.  
  
‘Hey, Iwaizumi!’ Tanaka called from the safety of his house. ‘If you kabedon me again I might have my own sexual crisis.’  
  
The door slammed shut behind him, cutting another shrieking bout of laughter short before Iwaizumi had time to enact revenge.

***

Iwaizumi walked to school alone on Monday, the radio silence from Tanaka only embellishing his paranoia.  
  
Really he was just glad they had practice this morning, saved him from having to look at every student in school and wonder which ones already knew about his dumb crush.  
  
He made it past the gym without incident, bypassing Hinata and Kageyama who were already warmed up and practising their quicks.  
  
Then Nishinoya cornered him in the clubroom.  
  
It was a little disconcerting to be 'cornered' by someone you had a good ten inches on (on a good day) or so in height.   
Then again if that shark-eyed look in his eyes was anything to go on Iwaizumi wasn't going to be blasting through this particular iron wall any time soon.  
  
‘Tanaka tell you?’ Iwaizumi guessed, pulling his shirt over his head.  
  
‘Yep, he said you’d threaten my kneecaps too but I’m smaller and faster and will get to yours first.’ Nishinoya said, smirking mischievously. ‘So Oikawa, huh?’  
  
‘I’m not happy about it either,’ Iwaizumi sighed, kicking out of his trousers, shorts already on beneath.  
  
Nishinoya paused, looking deep in thought as Iwaizumi pulled on his jersey. ‘He _does_ have a good serve.’  
  
And that was his seal of approval from Nishinoya before he finally peeled off, leaving Iwaizumi to get changed in peace.  
  
‘NISHINOYA!’ Hinata’s cry grew louder as he skidded to a halt at the clubroom door, Kageyama unable to find footing and gliding right by behind him. ‘WE’RE ON TV.’  
  
Nishinoya was out the door before Iwaizumi could process what happened, Hinata spun him around and herded him down the stairs after him - Kageyama and his shoes in tow.  
  
‘Look!’ Hinata was bouncing up and down, pointing at the screen… which was focused on Aoba Johsai’s second match, before Oikawa’s substitution.  
But, if you _squinted_ , you _could_ see Karasuno’s going on concurrently in the background.  
  
‘There I am!’ Hinata squealed, pointing to a vague orange pixel on the edge of the screen.  
  
Then the gymnasium was gone, replaced with the exterior entrance to Aoba Johsai and centred in on one player in particular.  
  
Oikawa rearranged his crutches to throw up a peace sign to the cameras.  
  
Tanaka, who had arrived minutes earlier, looked at Iwaizumi with a devilish grin, one that Nishinoya was sporting as well.  
Ennoshita was staring too, but he was being discreet about it.  
  
‘Sorry to everyone who came out and was unable to see me play,’ Oikawa said, pouting exaggeratedly - whatever feelings he had about the match were being well guarded. ‘I hope you enjoyed my teammates' performance!’  
  
‘Oikawa, this is your last season with Aoba Johsai, will you be returning to the sport in the future?’ A reporter asked.  
  
Oikawa laughed, there were something foreboding in it. ‘I’d like to see them _try_ and take me off the court.’  
His expression lightened, that dazzling smile returning. ‘No mind, my team played to the best of their ability - you haven’t heard the last from Seijoh,’ he said with a wink.  
  
‘And what about your injury? What happened?’  
  
For the first time Oikawa seemed genuinely caught off guard. ‘In all honesty… I don’t remember…’ there was an intrigued chattering from the reporters. ‘But I’m thankful to those who looked after me, Hanamaki, Matsukawa,’ Oikawa gestured to his fellow third years who waved and passed behind him into the building.  
  
Then Oikawa paused, that constant stream of thought running dry, there was the smallest crease in his perfect brow. ‘And… and all the doctors and nurses who got me back on my feet!’  
  
Iwaizumi could see it now, the strain behind his smile, how it didn’t quite reach his eyes.  
  
_Huh_ , Iwaizumi thought, biting his cheek. _I actually thought he’d remember me_.

***

It felt stupid to cry over a boy, but Iwaizumi could understand all the dumb chick-flicks about it now.  
  
He was sad and angry and he felt entitled to _something_ , to a place in Oikawa’s memory.  
He’d earned that at least, hadn’t he? Wasn’t he owed something? Not for helping Oikawa but for promising him - _fuck_ , he held back a particular violent sob.  
For _promising_ him they’d meet again.  
  
But it wasn’t just that, Oikawa was a reminder of just how quickly his last season could be pulled out from under him.  
How even hard work wasn’t a guaranteed victory, how volleyball wasn’t played from practice to practice or even from match to match. It was played second by second and his were running out.  
  
What would he do after school? Keep running?  
  
Was his invested time now a waste if he didn’t continue, follow the sport to its conclusion? Whatever that may be.  
Would making volleyball his job drain the passion from it?  
  
Because he might just be too fucking _tired_  for that.  
  
His team, and Oikawa, they could go forward into that world - he didn’t want to.  
  
It wasn’t a sad realisation, it was kind of like finding a corner piece to a jigsaw puzzle, the full picture wasn’t complete but it felt more stable now - an easier task to surmount.  
  
The world was wide… and yet Oikawa wasn’t any more distant than he had been days prior.  
This wasn’t a rejection from fate or destiny or whatever path that made have been pre-paved for Iwaizumi, like he gave a fuck about any of that.  
  
It was a see you later. Not yet. In the future, maybe.  
  
After all, he’d made a _promise_ he intended to fulfil.

**Author's Note:**

> Wonder how many plot holes this opened into high rise lmao.  
> I hope you enjoyed this though, all comments and kudos are appreciated!!
> 
> also tysm for the prompt for this, i'm not great at writing for prompts but i was really inspired for this one!!


End file.
